Castle was genuinely impressed by how Henry managed to re-examine all four victims and create a 3D model of the murder weapon in just a few days, all while still working on his own cases and keeping a hectic schedule. The chief medical examiner of the New York Medical Examiner's Office truly lived up to his reputation.
Henry, not paying attention to Castle's admiration, continued, "Rick, your suspicions were correct. These four victims weren't killed during random robberies. They were murdered using professional techniques. What's your plan now? Are you going to tell Detective Beckett about these findings?"
Castle snapped out of his thoughts, "Not yet. My relationship with Beckett and her trust in me aren't strong enough for her to calmly accept this information without knowing the full context. I need more time to build that trust before I can bring this up to her."
Henry, amused, teased Castle, "You still claim you joined the 12th precinct to write a novel? Your interest in Detective Beckett is written all over your face, my friend!"
Castle responded without shame, "I'm simply taking my shot when I see a good opportunity, unlike you, who hesitates. Good women are hard to find, Henry. If you keep hesitating, don't be surprised if she doesn't wait for you."
Henry, realizing the conversation was veering back to romantic matters, sighed, "Alright, Rick, we agreed not to discuss this anymore. Anyway, I've done everything you asked for. Do you want to take these reports with you or leave them here?"
Castle picked up the reports and considered for a moment before asking, "Do you have only one copy? I'll make a copy to take with me. I might need you to back me up when I bring this to Beckett's attention."
Henry replied nonchalantly, "I made two copies besides the original. Take two with you, and I'll keep one here."
Castle, not one to be modest, grabbed the copies. After confirming that Henry didn't want to go out for dinner, Castle left Henry to his thoughts, knowing today was a particularly hard day due to Abigail's burial.
With the forensic reports in hand, Castle strolled out of the shop, waved goodbye to Abraham, who was busy with a customer, and decided to head home. He aimed to finish his novel soon to satisfy both his publisher and his ex-wife Gina.
Over the next few days, Castle dedicated himself entirely to writing. He stayed home and worked tirelessly on his novel, finally completing the first draft of the nearly 300,000-word Nikki Heat novel four days later. Beckett, aware of his dedication, mentioned a new case over the phone but didn't insist he come in, knowing how important it was for Castle to finish his book. She reminded him that both his publisher and the NYPD were eagerly awaiting his manuscript, hoping for the positive publicity it would bring.
Castle was neither angry nor surprised by Beckett's refusal to let him abandon his novel to help with the case. The arrangement with the NYPD, facilitated by his mayoral connections, was to produce a best-selling novel that depicted the NYPD in a positive light. This was why the police commissioner allowed him to shadow Beckett in the first place. It was a mutual exchange: Castle's book for the NYPD's cooperation.
With the first draft of his Nikki Heat series completed, Castle knew the best course of action was to proofread it for errors and promptly deliver it to Gina for publishing. This would appease his publisher, fulfill his promise to the NYPD, and justify his continued presence at the precinct for future books in the series.
Feeling a surge of satisfaction, Castle worked diligently to correct any spelling mistakes. Once satisfied, he sent the manuscript to Gina, boasting over the phone about completing it early. Gina, thrilled by the prospect of a new best-seller, eagerly agreed to expedite the publishing process.
With the novel off his plate, Castle relaxed in his study with a glass of whiskey. As he sat on the sofa, he remembered something.
"Damn, I asked Uncle Powell on Barry Street to help find Neal's missing girlfriend, Kate Moreau. They said it would take about a week, and it's already been a week!"
Castle quickly called Mozzie to explain his recent busyness. Mozzie laughed, assuring Castle there was no need for guilt. If Barry Street had found Kate, they would have contacted him directly.
Relieved by Mozzie's understanding, Castle felt a renewed sense of responsibility. Determined to follow up on his inquiry, he decided to head to Barry Street.
Despite being almost forty with a fifteen-year-old daughter, Castle's enthusiasm was undiminished. He left home, invigorated by his sense of duty to his friends, and drove to Barry Street to get an update from Uncle Powell.
Parking near the giant sewer entrance, Castle was recognized by the gatekeeper, who directed him inside. As Castle entered the sewer, he spotted Charlie, Uncle Powell's trusted aide, waiting for him.
"Hey, Charlie! Sorry for bothering you again. I'm here to check if there's any news about the request I made last time. Have you found Kate?"
Charlie, his stern face breaking into a smile, greeted Castle warmly. "Mr. Castle, you're just in time. I have some news for you. We found the address of the young lady you're looking for, but we didn't want to disturb you while you were busy writing."
Castle's excitement was palpable, "Really? You've found her?"
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